


Safe and Valued

by Morninglight (orphan_account)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slut Shaming, Spitroasting, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Morninglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparrow Killian was about to be eaten by big green cannibals after being abandoned by her husband. Rescued by Arthur Maxson and Paladin Danse, she finds herself between the two men - literally. Thankfully, this is an improvement on her previous situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe and Valued

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Trigger warning for death, violence, fantastic racism, and slut-shaming with mentions of drug/alcohol addiction and cannibalism. This Danse is a little AU to what I write – I hope you like him. May also branch out into an AU unless I choose to keep things implied.

 

The bombs had certainly sent the world to hell in a handbasket.

            Sparrow sat disconsolately in a rusty cage as two green-skinned monsters whose heads were far too small for their musclebound bodies argued over who got to eat parts of her first. Apparently Vault Dweller was considered a prime cut of meat out here and these two were deciding who got the choicest bits. At least they wanted to simply cut her into collops. She really didn’t want to contemplate what other urges they could be looking to fulfil instead.

            The discussion had just been settled in favour of hanging her carcass out for a few days until she was properly ripe when a power-armoured soldier burst through the barricade screaming, “Godless heathens! Send them back to hell!” A few friends, most of them wearing an unfamiliar design of a winged circle bisected by an upright sword over some gears, followed suit and all of them had laser rifles. Sparrow watched delightedly as the monsters were reduced to smoking piles of ash in less than a couple minutes by the soldier in power armour and another who wore a long brown leather coat. It looked like she wouldn’t be on anyone’s menu tonight.

            “Look for anything useful,” ordered the man in brown leather, who carried himself like a commander. “Then purge this place with fire.”

            “Could you please save the last part until I’m out of this cage?” Sparrow asked hopefully.

            Hot blue eyes swung in her direction and despite still being trapped in a cage that reeked of rotting meat, Sparrow found herself swallowing thickly. Her rescuer was huge in bone and brawn, his large hands making short work of the rusty chain that kept the cage door shut, a barrel chest well-defined under his tight black uniform. Just like the soldiers she used to thank personally for their service in college.

            Of all the times for her libido, suppressed by postpartum depression and chem addiction and marriage to Nate Finlay, to come roaring back.

            “Thank you,” she said breathlessly as he helped her out of the cage.

            “You’re welcome,” the commander rasped. “How the hell did a Vault Dweller wind up in a super mutant’s cage?”

            “I walked into them. Literally.” She’d been so focused on the Pipboy and the map to Diamond City that she hit the smelly green bastards before realising they were there.

            The soldier in power armour sighed. “You’re very lucky we came along,” he growled. “A few hours more and you would have been dead or wishing for death.”

            “Actually, they’d pretty much decided to kill me and hang me up for a few days so the meat would properly age,” Sparrow said wryly. “But I can’t fault the timing, sir.”

            The commander was biting his bottom lip. “I think you’d better come with us back to the Prydwen, Vault Dweller,” he advised. “Walking around the Wasteland in that suit is just screaming ‘prey’ to the predators.”

            “I gathered that,” she agreed with a sigh. “What’s a Vault Dweller to you and your friends?”

            “A potential Scribe and source of information,” the commander noted. “I am Elder Arthur Maxson of the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel. The man in power armour is Star Paladin Danse.”

            “I’m Sparrow Killian,” was her answer. “Seeing as my husband left me to rot in the ruins of our old home, I’ll go with you lot. At least you might find me useful.”

            Arthur’s eyes studied her intently. “I think we will find you more than useful,” he rasped. “Fall in.”

            She obeyed, reminding her libido to behave. Pity that her hormones were acting up like caffeinated Chihuahuas…

…

Arthur’s blood always ran hot after battle and the last thing he needed on the journey home was to watch the sway of a Vault Dweller’s rounded hips as she walked beside him. The blue Vault suit clung to her slender figure like a glove, outlining a body softened by childbirth and a healthy diet, and she kept on slanting sideways glances in his direction. He averted his eyes, trying not to let on he was thinking of her inappropriately, and prayed for the vertibird to land soon.

            There was something about Sparrow Killian that inspired more than lustful thoughts. She had a low opinion of herself – no doubt courtesy of the husband who abandoned her – yet displayed a wry sense of humour at her predicament. In the Wasteland, she was helpless. In the Brotherhood of Steel, she was an asset.

            Finally the vertibird landed and Arthur edged in past Danse to help her climb aboard. His thumbs rubbed Sparrow’s hips soothingly as he lifted her up and followed behind – to keep her from falling off, of course. Sparrow’s cautious movements indicated problems with balance or agility. It would be a shame to rescue her, only to lose her to an accident.

            The Paladin’s gaze was eloquent in a properly stern expression and Arthur refused to acknowledge the implied rebuke. He would act appropriately around Sparrow despite the lust that rolled through his veins. He would act appropriately despite the curve of her breasts beneath that royal blue fabric and the heat of her skin through his fingerless gloves.

            They sat on the bench and Danse took the mini-gun. Sparrow’s thigh was pressed against his own and Arthur forced himself to think of almost anything else – super mutants, Quinlan wearing nothing but a come-hither smile, Quinlan in a corset wearing cat ears – instead of the lovely Vault Dweller next to him. She didn’t need to know that he was imagining sliding the zipper of her Vault suit down to-

            Sparrow shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, inching away from him as much as the bench would allow.

            The vertibird took off at that point, the familiar drop in Arthur’s stomach killing his arousal somewhat. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he rasped. “The fault is mine.”

            “The fault…?” Sparrow’s features, lovely even with the patch of vitiligo and scars on the left side, were confused.

            Arthur flushed in shame. “I will act appropriately. I didn’t rescue you from the super mutants to-“

            Her doe-brown eyes widened. “Oh. Good to see I’m not the only one with an unruly libido.”

            They were flying over the harbour by now, Arthur ruminating on the implication of her words. “You’re aroused?” he asked softly, keenly aware of Danse not three feet away.

            “Yes.” Her smile was rueful. “Getting rescued by a handsome soldier who breaks chain with his bare hands apparently does that to me.”

            Arthur bit his bottom lip as he had when realising how attractive Sparrow was. “The Paladin bursting in didn’t do anything for you?”

            Sparrow regarded Danse’s back wryly. “It might have but I don’t have a spare can opener.”

            The Elder concealed his laugh in a cough. Danse was a good soldier and fine man but not blessed with a sense of humour, self-deprecating or otherwise. “Power armour is sacred to the Brotherhood of Steel. You shouldn’t speak so lightly of prying it open.”

            The Vault Dweller regarded him with smouldering dark eyes. “So I should speak of peeling that leather coat off instead?”

            Her words went straight to Arthur’s dick and he found himself praying for the vertibird to hasten its return to the Prydwen.

…

Sparrow’s restraint went right out the window when she realised that Arthur was aroused under that tight black uniform. The thought of those thick thighs between hers as he fucked her silly was almost enough to banish the omnipresent dread she’d felt since Nate abandoned her at Abernathy Farm to look for Shaun.

            “Try to wait until we reach the Prydwen and she’s checked out by Knight-Captain Cade,” Danse said over his shoulder in pretty decent Latin to his commanding officer.

            “I was in a cryo facility until a few days ago,” she answered in the same language. “I’m pretty sure I’m free of diseases, if that’s what you were implying.”

            Arthur and Danse regarded her in shock as she leaned back, smiling sweetly. Just because she owed them one and found the Elder attractive didn’t mean she was going to take shit from them.

            “There’s also the possibility of malnutrition, dehydration and radfever,” Danse said soberly. “If I’m understanding correctly, you’re pre-War, and that means you aren’t as resistant to the residual radiation as most Wastelanders.”

            Sparrow blushed. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Paladin.”

            “I get worse from my team during a game of poker.” Danse’s armoured shoulders shrugged. “It’s also good you’re willing to procreate. Your genes are precious and you will be highly sought after as a breeding partner.”

            Arthur rested his face in one hand, sighing heavily. “You have a way of killing the mood, Paladin, you really do.”

            “If she’s joining the Brotherhood – and I see no reason why she can’t – she should be aware of these things,” Danse said calmly.

            Sparrow swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Our cryo facility was raided and my son taken,” she told both soldiers. “I don’t know who did it. Nate thinks he can find out on his own but…”

            “By the Steel,” Arthur breathed as Danse paled. “Forgive us. Our behaviour has been inappropriate.”

            She blinked back tears. “It’s my fault. I’m lonely and horny and I used to like soldiers back in the day. I acted inappropriately.”

            Much to her surprise, she found herself gathered into Arthur’s arms and weeping as he embraced her. The vertibird pilot announced their approach to the big airship.

            “There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Arthur murmured into her hair as Danse stepped away from the mini-gun. “We weren’t to know and you didn’t know we’re so… pragmatic… about fertility.”

            Danse rested a steel hand on her shoulder as the vertibird docked. “We’ll find your son – or avenge him,” he promised.

            “Thank you,” Sparrow said softly.

            They were silent as they disembarked, the mood quite thoroughly killed, and Sparrow found herself in the care of Knight-Captain Cade, whose diagnosis for her was a lack of food, water and mild irradiation. RadAway took care of the last issue while a few days of steady food and drink should tend to the rest.

            Proctor Quinlan was a tall academic with a cat named Emmett who questioned her in detail about pre-War life, technology and her own history. Whatever she told him must have pleased the man, because he confirmed that she was to be a Scribe-Initiate and sent her on to Proctor Ingram to learn how to scrap things and mod power armour.

            By the end of the week, she was part of the Brotherhood of Steel, invested as a Scribe under Arthur’s hard blue gaze. It was a good thing that she wore the pocketed vest over her uniform because, of course, her libido flared up in his presence again. Just as it did around Paladin Danse, who was taller than Arthur even outside of his power armour, and nearly as thick. And their voices…

            Sparrow’s hormones were going to be the death of her.

…

Sparrow Killian was going to be the death of Arthur and Danse. Seeing her nude torso as she was tattooed with a Scribe’s marks – Knights and Lancers were branded – aroused the Elder more than it should. Finding out Danse also desired her was infuriating but understandable. They had the same taste in power armour mods and whiskey – it stood to reason they’d have the same taste in women.

            After Quinlan took himself off, Sparrow’s back tattoo healed with a stimpak, Arthur sighed. “So you are one of us now,” he told the pre-War survivor. “How do you feel?”

            “I don’t know,” she admitted, echoing his sigh. “It’s been a bit of a hectic week.”

            “I understand.” Arthur reached out to cup her cheek gently, acutely aware of Danse’s sharp inhalation behind him. Sparrow shivered and as she hadn’t pulled up her uniform yet, Arthur could see the hard nipples that tipped her small breasts. “Cold?”

            “No,” she admitted huskily.

            “It appears Danse and I have the same taste in women as we do power armour and whiskey,” Arthur observed, daring to push his luck. “Would we be presuming…?”

            A look of relief passed over her face. “I don’t have to choose? Wonderful.”

            That stung a little. He was the Elder – surely any woman would prefer him over anyone else?

            Then he heard Danse’s sigh of relief and knew that this was the better option. He wouldn’t have to worry about his friendship with the Star Paladin.

            So instead he pulled the Vault Dweller closer to kiss those lips he’d been dreaming of for a week as Danse stepped around him to attack the back of her neck. Sandwiched between them, red marks soon peppered her neck and torso, each kiss producing a hungry moan from her. As in battle, Danse and Arthur acted in unison without the need for words, such coordination bringing them all together.

            When the Elder reluctantly released Sparrow, her lips were swollen and her eyes bright. “Your husband was a fool for abandoning you,” Arthur told her hoarsely. “But his loss is our gain.”

            She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked down for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m ready to have another child until I find out what happened to Shaun,” she admitted.

            “We understand,” Danse rumbled, rubbing her shoulders soothingly. “The middle of a war may also not be the best time to procreate.”

            “If you say the word ‘procreate’ one more time…” Sparrow began threateningly, only to be distracted by Danse’s hands sliding down her body to tug the rest of her uniform off.

            Arthur slid his fingers between her legs, finding wet heat, and the Scribe whimpered in pleasure. “I think Danse saying ‘procreate’ arouses you,” he rasped, rubbing his thumb over her clit until her hips were jerking.

            “Bastard!” she gasped, earning a laugh from him.

            “Language, Scribe,” Arthur chided gently.

            “Which one? I can call you a bastard five different ways,” Sparrow retorted. “Three of which you wouldn’t understand.”

            Danse made a noise that might actually be a chuckle. “Your mouth is very pungent, Scribe,” he observed sternly. “Perhaps it might be turned to better use than insulting your Elder?”

            _I like the way you think, Danse,_ Arthur thought approvingly as his free hand unzipped his uniform. “Since Danse is the one with the obsession for procreation, I believe he shall have the pleasure of your cunt while you demonstrate the cleverness of your mouth for me, if it is acceptable to you?”

            “Lord and Saints yes,” Sparrow breathed and began to kiss down his chest.

…

Arthur rarely swore – audibly – and to hear him curse showed the depth of his unravelling in Sparrow’s presence. There was a sensuality to the Vault Dweller that cut through the discipline of them both. When tempered by her sorrows and loneliness, Danse knew there was a real chance of her arousing more than their bodies. That was why when Arthur suggested they approach her about being shared, the Star Paladin was willing to agree. He didn’t want to defy his Elder’s authority by vying for the heart of a beautiful woman yet he had no wish to simply concede the victory to Maxson.

            He watched her take Arthur’s cock into her mouth and hardened even more. His uniform was too tight like his power armour had been when she and Arthur flirted with each other on the vertibird. Danse gladly shed the constricting orange fabric, feeling his cock spring free, and met Arthur’s harsh blue gaze over Sparrow’s head. Something passed between them, an acknowledgment of their experiences together, an understanding of what the future might bring.

            Sparrow paused to take a breath and look over her shoulder, eyes widening. “Wow, what do they put in the water in Washington – sorry, the Capital Wasteland?” she asked with a smile.

            “Nothing but purifiers,” Danse answered. “Why do you ask?”

            Arthur’s eyes glittered with amusement. “She’s making a compliment on the size of our cocks, Star Paladin, by implying there’s something in the water that makes them so big.”

            “Oh.” Danse was the first to admit he didn’t always get jokes, blatant or implied, and it seemed compliments were another thing he didn’t understand. It was pleasing to know that she was impressed with his cock though. “If you believe it’s impressive now, I’m sure it will seem the more so in you.”

            “I love how you can boast like that and still be all serious,” Sparrow chuckled before licking a slow stripe up Arthur’s cock. The Elder muttered something and caught her head impatiently.

            Danse waited until she had Arthur in her mouth again before kneeling behind her. Her knees were parted, giving the Paladin a clear view of her wet pink folds, and he dragged a thick finger along them until she audibly moaned. Perhaps she had been unable to choose because she wanted this herself.

            Because he didn’t want to hurt her or startle her into biting Arthur, Danse took his time entering. God but she was tight and hot. It had been too long for the Paladin and he was grateful to Arthur for seeing the opportunity and seizing it. Judging by the expression on the Elder’s face, the sensation of Sparrow moaning around his cock was intensely pleasurable.

            He held Arthur’s gaze as he thrust in and out, the Elder’s hips snapping in tandem until the Scribe gasped for breath. She was granted mercy, panting hoarsely and muttering something about being out of practice, before Arthur began to fuck her mouth again. If the younger man’s expression was anything to go by, she wasn’t _that_ too out of practice at fellatio.

            He felt the prickling turn into pressure at the base of his spine, realising that Sparrow was rubbing herself with one hand – in their eagerness for intercourse, they’d neglected her somewhat – and when her cunt tightened around his cock Danse spilt with the first curse he’d uttered since Cutler’s death. Arthur followed almost simultaneously, thrusting until Sparrow peeled her mouth from his softened dick with a filthy pop.

            “That’s… quite the welcome,” she gasped, wiping her lips. “I hope I lived up to your expectations?”

            “Creator, yes,” Arthur confirmed. “Did we meet yours?”

            “Lord and Saints, yes,” Sparrow chuckled. “I think I’ve gotten something back that I didn’t realise I had lost. Thank you.”

            Danse exchanged another glance with Arthur. There was much that needed to be discussed and examined between the three of them. But at the moment – as the Elder helped the Scribe up and the Paladin stepped back to allow it – they were content to enjoy the moment.

            “You are of the Brotherhood now and we stand by our own,” Danse told her gently. “We will stand at your back, ready to spill our blood to keep you safe.”

            Sparrow stared at him before suddenly bursting into tears. Arthur looked nonplussed but Danse had seen cathartic weeping before and simply took the Scribe into his arms so she could cry it out. The Elder joined the embrace and in that moment, Danse felt that it would be alright.

            They would find the balance between them. Nothing less was acceptable to him.

…

 Much to Sparrow’s surprise, no one commented on her long absence from the mess hall after her induction into the Brotherhood. Maybe sleeping with a superior officer (or two in her case) was part of the welcoming ceremony. Maybe the Wasteland had purged such concerns as modesty and chastity from the general population because of the need for procreation.

            Such overwhelming acceptance had never been in her life until now. Danse and Arthur pored over maps of the Commonwealth with her, marking old caches of technology and medical supplies, tracking potential sources of Institute activity. From the little she knew of CIT, it made sense that they were behind Shaun’s kidnapping and Sparrow wondered if Nate had figured that out too.

            The three of them were in Bunker Hill when she saw her husband again, still wearing his faded military fatigues and battered combat armour but with a skull tattoo on his face. She now knew that was the sign of a Gunner, ruthless mercenaries who were the most disciplined soldiers outside of the Brotherhood and the remnants of the Minutemen in the Commonwealth. Arthur was actually here to speak to General Ronnie Shaw and Colonel Preston Garvey about a possible mutual aid agreement. The Gunners had killed much of Recon Squad Artemis under Paladin Brandis, after all, and slaughtered the last Minutemen brigade at Quincy.

            “You know that guy, Scribe?” Ronnie asked, chewing on a piece of bloodleaf.

            “I do. Name’s Nate Finlay. Was pre-War black ops – a soldier who specialised in sabotage and murder – and my husband,” Sparrow murmured. “He dumped me at the ruins of our old home after we escaped the Vault.”

            “Looks like he’s found more of his kind,” Preston said disgustedly.

            “Maybe. Or maybe he doesn’t know any better. He was crime clan before he was black ops.” Looking on Nate arguing with one of the traders, she felt a distant sort of pity for him. Thanks to Arthur and Danse, she was finding new strength and adapting to the Wasteland, whereas he’d fallen into the same niche he’d always held – even though it was a terrible one.

            “He’s the Gunners’ new commander,” Ronnie said grimly. “Anything you know will help, ma’am. He’s no friend to Minuteman or Brotherhood.”

            Arthur studied Nate with his piercing blue eyes. “I should be able to get his files from the Citadel as well. It was once the military’s main headquarters.”

            Ronnie smiled. “That might be worth a few extra tatos, Elder Maxson.”

            Danse raised an eyebrow. “Only a few, General? We have information that would give your organisation a psychological edge against your enemies. I think you meant to say ‘few extra _crates_ of tatos’.”

            “Hey, it’s been a slow harvest season for tatos,” Preston protested, a twinkle in his eye. Sparrow rather liked the good-natured, even-tempered Minuteman who stuck to his oaths through thick and thin.

            “The seeds we’re offering will improve the yield,” Arthur countered, looking away from Nate. “I should think you’d thank us for taking the rubbish ones off your hands.”

            Ronnie snorted. “If I could take half of what comes out of your mouth, Maxson, and put it on the fields – we’d be drowning in tatos.”

            “Brotherhood seed is always superior,” Danse stated firmly.

            “Only because you’re full of shi-“

            “Are the Gunners welcome to the party?” Nate had walked up to the map-table where the five were clustered.

            “You mean the Gunners which murdered a third of a Brotherhood recon team and most of Quincy?” Arthur asked, pegging Nate with a death glare. “Or is there another group called the Gunners?”

            Nate didn’t look intimidated. “I’m whipping them into shape, Maxson. We have a mutual enemy in the Institute. I’d think you’d welcome the extra muscle.”

            “Nice tattoo, Nate,” Sparrow said quietly. “It suits you in every possible way.”

            Her former husband wasn’t an idiot; he took in every meaning of her comment. “I see you landed on your feet, Sparrow. Or was it your back?”

            Sparrow smiled sweetly at Nate. “I’m rarely on my back these days. I’m too busy running Logistics for the Brotherhood.”

            Or on her hands and knees with an Elder at one end and a Star Paladin at the other, but that was none of Nate’s business.

            “Scribe Killian is valued in our organisation,” Arthur added pointedly. “I’m assuming your enmity of the Institute indicates that you’re aware they’re the ones who most likely took your son.”

            “They did,” Nate confirmed. “I hunted down the bastard responsible and executed him like the mongrel he is. Unfortunately, I hit a snag – the next source of information I need is in the Glowing Sea and we don’t have the resources to go out there.”

            “What do you want, Gunner?” Ronnie asked harshly.

            “An alliance of convenience. We keep the southwest, the Minutemen can have the north, and the Brotherhood the east and south.” Nate folded his arms. “My predecessors were short-sighted idiots. I can sweeten the deal by turning over Clint to your justice, Garvey. I can’t stand backstabbers.”

            “But isn’t that what you did in the Great War?” Arthur asked. “Your military files are extensive and the Brotherhood has access to them.”

            “I’m guessing you’re either descended from Roger or Nigel Maxson,” Nate replied icily. “One was no better than me and the other was a desktop commander who got a lot of good men killed.”

            “Roger Maxson found the line he wouldn’t cross,” Arthur retorted. “Have you?”

            Nate’s eyes were green-hazel flame. “For my son, there is no line I wouldn’t cross.”

            “He’s my son too, Nate,” Sparrow said softly. “Or have you forgotten that as easily as you forgot the whole ‘love and honour’ thing? I know about Patricia in Toronto and Veronica in Anchorage.”

            Her ex-husband’s expression darkened. “While you’ve been fucking around with the Brotherhood, I’ve been making headway in finding Shaun. He should be your sole priority, not counting boxes of Instamash and talking trade with a bunch of wannabe heroes.”

            “An army marches on its stomach, Nate. I guess with all my father taught you, you forgot that.” Sparrow sighed and shook her head. “Thank you for the Glowing Sea tip. If I find anything and I have leave to do so, I’ll pass it onto you.”

            “Think on what I said, Maxson. You too, Shaw.” Nate ignored her comment. “I have no quarrel with either of you… yet.”

            With that implied threat, Nate saluted mockingly and walked away. Sparrow could see that Arthur’s fists were clenched and Preston’s eyes hard.

            “You know what I like about those facial tattoos,” Danse observed quietly.

            “You can pick an asshole from fifty paces?” Ronnie asked dryly.

            “No. Well, yes, that too. But they make fantastic targets.” Bless Danse for his seriousness.

            “Marry me?” the General of the Minutemen asked with a grin.

            “I’m flattered but I am otherwise engaged.” Danse looked down at the map. “Now, about those extra crates of tatos…”

            Sparrow exchanged a worried glance with Arthur. Nate was dangerous, which was why she hadn’t been that cut up about him leaving her – only him leaving her in hostile territory. If he was leading a group of amoral mercenaries with powerful military resources, things could get very bad.

            “We’ll look for this source of information in the Glowing Sea,” Arthur murmured in Latin. “There are other reasons we need to go there anyway.”

            Sparrow knew there were things she wasn’t privy to despite sharing the Elder and Star Paladin’s bed. As rank went, she was still a very new Scribe and was treated accordingly by her commanding officers. Arthur didn’t want to show too much favouritism. She accepted that as she did the dynamics that existed between Arthur and Danse that excluded her.

            Sparrow was very good at accepting things that she couldn’t change at the moment.

            She looked back at the map. There were troubles enough for today without borrowing worries for tomorrow. She was valued, safe and maybe even cherished. That was more than she’d ever had before the bombs.

            She just hoped that Shaun was alive to be rescued.

            Arthur’s hand rested on her hip and Danse squeezed her shoulder in silent reassurance, the movements so subtle that the Minutemen probably missed them.

            Anything other than victory in this war was unacceptable to her.


End file.
